Vice Law
by GTA-phil-GTA
Summary: A story based on GTA and Miami Vice, set in Vice City.
1. Episode 1

**Episode #1 **  
  
The night sky hung above downtown Staunton Island, the dull moon giving a faint glow behind the many clouds, which littered the atmosphere. Skyscrapers stood high through the mist, giving Liberty City a look of deceptive beauty. However, below the skyline down on the ground, was the true nature of the city, plainly revealed.  
  
Commercials for anything and everything lined the walls of the buildings along with bright lights flashing this way and that. Swarming along the sidewalks were many people from completely different backgrounds. Businessmen, hookers, pimps, carjackers, homeless people, thugs, gangs and the occasional cop trying to keep order in the already corrupt city.  
  
At the edge of Staunton's main commercial area a large casino sat, with a huge sign on the front spelling out the word 'Kasen' in red and orange flashing lights. This was obviously Kendo Kasen's casino, Kasen being the leader of the Yakuza, a large Japanese gang in Liberty City. The Yakuza had been there in the city for a long time, but their rise was only just occurring at that time, in 1980's Liberty. They were gaining more and more power each day, and more men were being put onto the streets for them.  
  
On the street corner, opposite the casino's main entrance, a silver Sentinel sat with its engine still running. Inside, a man with short black hair held the steering wheel tightly, a determined look spread across his face. A light was on inside the car, stuck tightly to the roof above him. The yellow brightness reflected off the African-American skin tone on his face, illuminating the features on his head clearly.  
  
The door of the Sentinel slowly slid open, and the engine of the car suddenly died out. The man inside thrust his foot out onto the gritty street, and then his body shortly followed. He gave a quick stretch, cracked his fists together and then reached into his jacket with his right hand. He slowly pulled out a shiny handgun, which glistened as the streetlamps shone down from above. The gun was a Colt Python, already fully loaded with six deadly bullets slotted into the well-greased chamber. The man fondled the gun affectionately, running his fingers smoothly across the trigger. Moments later, he slipped the gun back into his pocket and then headed across the road to the main entrance of the bright casino.  
  
Inside the casino crowds of people flooded the entire ground floor of the building. People sat at every slot machine, repeatedly pulling the levers and pressing buttons in hope of winning a small amount of money. Others swarmed round several different types of tables, playing their way into either winning a small fortune or losing everything. Everyone was busy; there was nobody with nothing to do. The guests enjoyed themselves gambling, the staff ran every table and all of the games, whilst the security guards patrolled; making sure everything was in order.  
  
The man stepped into the casino and walked past the security guards at a fast pace, clamping his jacket together with his hands to ensure that they never spotted the gun. He then advanced through the crowds to the bar. Across the other side of the huge room the bar lay, just as crowded as the other places. The man carried on walking over to it, and after shoving past more crowds of people he finally spotted it.  
  
"There you are." He slowly whispered to himself as his eyes fixed on a man with black hair and a green shirt on sitting at the bar. He went over and sat next to the man on one of the stools, decorated with red and yellow patterns.  
  
"Tommy, right?" he asked the man next to him. "Tommy Vercetti?"  
  
The man slowly turned round and looked at him for a second. "Yeah, that's me." He replied hatefully. "Who's asking?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, allow me to introduce myself." The man answered. "Ricardo Gonzalez is the name, you can call me Rico though."  
  
"OK..." Tommy replied slowly, wondering what the hell this Rico person wanted. "It's good to meet you Rico, but I really must be going now."  
  
Before Ricardo had time to reply, Tommy had already slipped off his stool and began making his way over to the exit of the bright Casino, the world outside a dark place; totally opposite to the cheerful mood of the Casino's interior.  
  
"Damn it!" Rico muttered to himself under his breath, as he looked at Tommy walk away.  
  
Rico quickly slipped down from his own stool, and then quickly followed Tommy, making sure that he wasn't spotted or noticed at all.  
  
Back outside Tommy looked either side down the long road, trying to spot a Taxi that he could hail down. He quickly changed his mind, as no cars were coming down the whole stretch of concrete. Glancing round himself to check that nobody was looking, he sprinted across the road towards Ricardo's Sentinel, still parked on the street corner opposite the Casino. He took one last check to see if anyone was watching, and then flung the door open, before shifting his body inside. After a brief search of the car he found the keys in the passengers side mirror and then started up the engine as fast as possible.  
  
As Rico stepped outside, he saw his Sentinel begin to move forwards. The engine revved twice and then Tommy swerved the car round the corner, as Rico watched in horror. He quickly scanned the road, but the only car there was his own Sentinel - stolen by Tommy. He had lost his car, and Tommy had escaped.

* * *

A red Banshee swerved round a corner of Little Havana, the wheel skidding across a patch of bright green grass as it went, turning the garden of a small apartment into mud. The wheels of the Banshee locked as it spun round 180 degrees and then headed back the other way, trying to evade a pursuing Stinger. It zoomed past the midnight black sports car, whose driver jammed the steering wheel to the left instantly to turn round with the Banshee as quickly as possible.  
  
The driver, who was the only one in the car, managed to turn the Stinger round in time to resume chasing the other vehicle. He slammed his foot down onto the accelerator and in no time caught up the distance he had fallen behind. The Banshee swung onto another road, and headed south past Sunshine Autos. The glaring Sun overlooking Vice City shone down onto the car, and reflected off the bonnet into the eyes of watching pedestrians and drivers on the other side of the road, partly blinding them as it went past.  
  
At the end of the road the Banshee turned right towards the Airport. As it sped along the winding concrete, the Stinger followed in hot pursuit. Both engines roared fiercely as the two cars shot past the parking lot of the airport like two racers surging forwards for first place in a speedway. The Banshee suddenly turned off into the loading areas and runways as it began to approach terminal 1, rather than carrying on straight into the airport drop-off area. It accelerated past crates and boxes all piled up on top of each other, and past stationary planes docked in the immense hangars.  
  
The Banshee darted in and out of small buildings and ramps dotted throughout the space next to the taxiway. It dodged past several baggage carriers, taking many scruffy bags to one of the aircraft awaiting takeoff, as it went. The Stinger had a hard time keeping up, but with the Banshee in clear view it wouldn't lose the car. The Banshee led the Stinger round the whole place trying to lose it, but it managed to stay close behind the speeding maniac.  
  
Suddenly, the passenger in the Banshee rolled down his window and slid his upper body through the narrow space. He quickly brandished two well- polished Colt 45's, and loaded them as the wind flew through his hair rapidly. The driver of the Stinger, sensing what was about to happen, quickly swerved off past several red barrels behind another small building to the left.  
  
Behind the building, which was an emergency fire station for the airport, the man heard a load skid come from the direction of the Banshee he had been chasing. There came a final rev from the cars boisterous engine, and then the soft purring of the car slowly died out, fading away into the warm air.  
  
The man stopped the Stinger and quickly shoved the door open, then got out of the car hastily. The fringe of his dark blonde hair drooped slightly over the sunglasses on his face, reflecting a gleaming ray of sun hitting the glass. He calmly removed them, and clipped them onto the neck of his light blue t-shirt smoothly. He then reached into his white jacket and slowly pulled out his own Colt 45, which shone brightly in the hot sun.  
  
A plane that had just landed taxied into the terminal, brushing past the vicinity where the Banshee and Stinger both sat, as it went. The thunderous sound of the plane's jet engines blocked out that of the trunk of the Banshee, which was slammed shut after the driver of the car had took out a Spaz Shotgun.  
  
Unaware that the two other men were approaching his position from either side of the building, the man from the Stinger checked that his Colt was loaded and then crept over to the corner of the brick wall at the back of the structure. He peeked round the corner and spotted one of the men walking towards him - the one with the shotgun. Making sure that he remained covered by the corner of the building, he aimed the gun out at the man, gripping the handle tightly.  
  
"Freeze," he yelled, his finger already tweaking the trigger of his gun slightly. "Vice Law, drop the gun now!"  
  
The confident look on the man's face suddenly changed to fear. He released his grip from the shotgun and the weapon fell from his hands, hitting the floor with a loud clunk. He shortly gave a small grin, however, as he glanced past his attacker.  
  
Behind him the second man stood, the two shiny Colts he had flaunted earlier gleaming in either hand.  
  
"No," the man whispered aggressively, aiming one of the guns at the cop's head. "You drop it."  
  
The cop slowly turned round and faced the barrels of each gun. As he stared down the small chasms, he dropped his Colt to the ground with a short, uneasy sigh.  
  
The other man crouched down and picked up his shotgun, then quickly jolted round behind the man with the two pistols. As the man with the pistols began to squeeze the triggers, he started to laugh menacingly. As he looked at the two guns, a sudden gunshot in the air, not coming from the two Colts, alarmed him. The deafening sound rung in his ears again and again, until it was all he could think about.  
  
He looked to the left at his partner and was terrified to see him fall forwards towards the cop, his pistols dropping from his hands as blood oozed from a small perforation in his chest. Before he could look round to react he was thrust backwards by the cop, who jumped forwards after the man and punched his face wildly. After a few gruelling seconds of trying to fight back, the man lay unconscious on the cold floor.  
  
The cop slid the shotgun on the ground to the side and picked up his Colt 45. As he slotted it back into his jacket, he looked up to see a man in a silver suit approaching him. The man stopped and aimed his pistol, a hefty Colt Python, at the cop sitting on the floor.  
  
"Freeze!" he exclaimed quickly, cocking the gun as he aimed it forwards. "Rico Martinez, LCPD."  
  
The cop on the floor sighed quietly before looking back up at the other man.  
  
"Well done partner," he groaned, reaching into his jacket for something. He slowly pulled out a leather case, in which a shiny badge sat. "Sonny Johnson, Vice Law."

* * *

Red and blue lights flashed continuously on the roof of an ambulance, parked next to the small building where the fight had took place in the airport only moments earlier. Nearby another ambulance sat, along with a SWAT van and a Police cruiser. On the floor white chalk was drawn boldly onto the concrete, in the shape of a body outline, marking where the criminal had been killed earlier that day.  
  
Sonny Johnson and Ricardo Martinez, the two police officers at the incident, sat next to each other on a small concrete ramp, away from all of the commotion. Sonny lit up a cigarette and then turned to face Ricardo.  
  
"So, Liberty City huh?" Sonny asked. "What's it like down there then?"  
  
"Dark, gloomy." Ricardo began. "Pretty much just a small New York. Makes sense because they are actually quite near each other. Well, anyway, I work in the armed robbery division there as a detective."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Sonny replied as he puffed on the cigarette. "What brings you down here to good old Vice then?"  
  
"Ever heard of a person named Vercetti? Tommy Vercetti?" Ricardo asked. He pulled out a small picture of Tommy, but Sonny shook his head, thinking hard about the man. "Well, he is a criminal from down in Liberty. He's a real good one as well, the kind of guy with the potential to become top of the crime tree. He used to work for a gang called the Forellis, but then he got busted at some deal or something. He just got released from prison a few days ago after fifteen years in the slammer."  
  
"Come to mention it, the name does ring a bell." Sonny butted in, disturbing Ricardo's explanation.  
  
"Yeah, it probably should. Anyways, we think the Forellis have sent him down here to Vice City. I've been following him all day. Caught up with him at the Kasen Casino on Staunton Island, but then he stole my car and got away to the airport." Ricardo continued. "The LCPD sent me to follow him at all costs, so I have. But thanks to this big distraction, he could be anywhere in the city by now."  
  
"Well, Ricardo, I'm sure we will think of some way to find him." Sonny reassured confidently, blowing smoke up into the air as he spoke.  
  
"Sonny ... Sonny. Please, call me Rico." Ricardo laughed.  
  
"OK, Rico. If that's what you want," Sonny quickly replied, a smile spreading across his face.  
  
"Wait a second, that's it! Tommy Vercetti! I knew I had heard that name somewhere before!" Sonny yelled to Rico, breaking the short silence, which had lasted only a few seconds. Rico sat, edging forwards on the end of the ramp, eagerly awaiting Sonny's explanation.  
  
"I had to check all of the passengers on the incoming flights today, those guys from the Banshee being a couple of them. I also saw Tommy's name on one of the lists, along with a few other guys travelling with him. I heard about him being released from Liberty Penitentiary a few days ago, and so checked it out. And when I looked, it said something about him being picked up by a guy called Rosenberg. Ken Rosenberg, I think it was."  
  
"He's a Forelli lawyer!" Rico exclaimed. "I knew they were in on this somehow!"  
  
"Sonny!" another voice blasted over at the two, coming from the direction of the squad car parked by the building. "Get over here a minute!" It yelled, interrupting the conversation.  
  
Sonny hoisted himself up off the small ramp, and then tossed his cigarette down onto the damp ground. He quickly glanced at Rico as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and then walked over to the person who had just called him.  
  
As Sonny approached the squad car the man flung open the door of the vehicle and got into the drivers seat. Sonny slowly opened the other door of the vehicle, and sat down in the passengers seat, next to the man.  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant?" Sonny asked as he settled down into the slightly uncomfortable chair.  
  
"Call me Ed, Sonny." Edward Jameson, Sonny's Lieutenant replied with a slight chuckle. "So, you alright after what just happened?"  
  
"Oh come on Ed, of course I'm fine." Sonny answered. "But, what has happened with the guy I knocked out before? The one that raised the damn shotgun at me."  
  
"We are taking him back to the station Sonny, so don't worry." Ed explained. "He will probably go to prison for assault on a police officer, unless he somehow gets out on bail. I doubt that should happen, though."  
  
Sonny gave a long sigh as a reply, his expression becoming very serious.  
  
"So, anyway, who is that other cop over there?" Ed questioned, trying to bring back the conversation.  
  
"Ricardo Martinez. LCPD Armed Robbery Detective, uses Ricardo Gonzalez as an undercover name, likes to be called Rico, and he was sent here after Tommy Vercetti. That's everything I know about him." Sonny replied quickly, trying to get it all out of the way. "This Tommy Vercetti guy just got released from prison a few days ago, and the LCPD think he has been sent down here to Vice by the Forelli gang. As far as I know, this is true. I remember looking over the incoming flight lists at Vercetti, and he is getting picked up by a Ken Rosenberg."  
  
"I see. Well, go with him. See what you can dig up about this Vercetti guy." Ed ordered. "I've heard about the Forellis, and I don't want a gang like them in Vice, so go see what you can do."  
  
Without replying, Sonny opened the door of the cruiser and stepped out into the open air, once again shoving his hands into his pockets. He quickly walked over to his Stinger, glinting in the sunlight, and hopped over the door into the drivers seat swiftly. Rico, after noticing that Sonny had signalled to follow him, jogged over and got into the other seat.  
  
Sonny started up the roaring engine, bringing the car to life as he turned the key. The vehicle surged forwards as Sonny stepped on the accelerator, heading towards the exit of the airport. The day was drawing on, and the pair had no time to waste.

* * *

The Stinger skidded out of the airport terminal, screeching to a halt at a set of traffic lights along the winding round exiting the airport area. One, two, three, four ... the light seemed to stay red forever. Finally, after almost another ten seconds had passed the light switched down to amber and then proceeded on to green. As soon as the light flashed green Sonny stepped down on the accelerator hard, swerving to the right and then to the left out to the main road.  
  
"So, where we heading?" he yelled above the wind over to Rico, as he raced forwards along the highway at the edge of the Mainland.  
  
"A small building in Ocean Beach. Ken Rosenburg & Co, just follow my directions and we'll find it." Rico replied shortly after. "We ought to go and check it out, 'cos that is Ken's small law firm. But hurry, if these guys are doing something then we have no time to lose."  
  
Sonny nodded and then shifted into fourth gear in a hurry, the tires screeching menacingly as he veered off onto Starfish Island. He slowed the car down as he went down the bridge, so as not to scrape the end of the bonnet on the floor, and then sped up along the straight.  
  
Several minutes later the car came to a halt outside Ken's building. Rico looked round, but there was no sign of any cars parked outside at all.  
  
"Doesn't look like our man is home." He groaned, stepping out of the car.  
  
"No, it seems as though Kenny has been out all afternoon." Sonny replied with a small laugh. "Lets just go inside and take a looksie, eh?"  
  
Rico acknowledged with a short nod, slowly lifting out his heavy Colt Python as he stepped through the main door of the Harrison Hotel into the lobby of the small building. The two walked straight past the messy reception, which had no staff there at all. The desks were littered with scruffy papers, and Sonny wondered how anyone could navigate through the mess. He quickly followed Rico through to the back corridors of the office building, quickly drawing his Colt 45 as they turned a corner.  
  
Rico walked through the narrow corridor at a very fast pace, trying to find Ken Rosenberg's office desperately. He eventually found it at the end of the corridor. A small door, with textured glass as a window so that you couldn't see through it properly, and then a neat name printed on saying 'Ken Rosenburg, Chairman'. Rico gripped his Colt tightly and then twisted the doorknob, throwing the door open immediately after.  
  
He burst into the room, pistol held high, but nobody was there. The room was empty, except for more messy papers and a small sofa in one corner of the room. Behind the disorganized and untidy desk was a large notice board, which Sonny quickly checked for any information. Nothing of importance was pinned up onto the cork, however.  
  
"Hey, Sonny," Rico burst out, prying Sonny over to a dusty fax machine on top of a wardrobe. "Take a look at this."  
  
Sonny picked up a small sheet of paper that lay in the tray of the fax machine, and then skimmed through the writing on it.  
  
"Look at the address." He said, a more positive tone in his voice. "It's from Liberty, addressed from the Forellis!"  
  
Sonny took a closer look at the paper, along with Rico trying to glance at the sheet over his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, look at that!" Rico exclaimed, looking near the bottom of the page. "It says about picking Tommy up, and a deal."  
  
"At the docks, today!" Sonny yelled, a nervous expression coming across his face.  
  
The two raced out of the room, running back outside to Sonny's Stinger, still parked right outside the door. They both jumped in, and Sonny stepped down hard on the accelerator, heading down for the docks as fast as possible. Rico, still gripping the paper extremely tightly, kept on reading the small print on the page.  
  
"Sonny, come on!" he yelled with intensity. "Step on it man, it says the deal is set for in ten minutes!"  
  
Sonny, with a shocked look on his face, stamped down on the pedal as he raced over the south most bridge of Vice City.

* * *

The Stinger skidded violently round the corner of the bridge, heading straight to Viceport to try to catch up with Tommy Vercetti and the drug dealers. Sonny stomped down as hard as he could on the pedal, but the car would go no faster. At top speed, the shining vehicle swerved in and out of all traffic on the main road, on both the right and wrong sides.  
  
As the car approached the gates marking the entrance to the docks area, the Stinger quickly slowed down. In the distance a helicopter, a white maverick, could be seen rising from the ground up into the air. It then swiftly turned round and headed away from Vice City rapidly. Amongst the large distraction of the helicopter, however, several loud gunshots could still be heard, even though rather faintly.  
  
Sonny carried on in the direction of the gunshots, unaware of exactly where he was headed. As he approached the place he thought the helicopter had taken off from along with the gunshots, he made the car come to an eventual halt and then pushed the door open to his side.  
  
As he stepped out onto the bumpy pavement, he drew his Colt 45 promptly from the holster in his jacket. Rico stepped out of the Stinger, following Sonny closely. He shut the door quietly, and then the two advanced on the area, going past a large wire fence on the way.  
  
At the destination, three bodies lay on the floor, pools of dark red blood surrounding each one. Two of them lay very close to each other, in open ground. The other lay on its own, just a slight bit further away.  
  
"Looks like this was the deal." Rico sighed, aware that everything had been a failure. "Someone else must have been in on it, and tried to take out everyone."  
  
"Yeah." Sonny replied in agreement shortly after. "And none of these look like Tommy. I think these guys must have stolen the money, and the drugs. The dealers escaped in the chopper, while Ken and Tommy escaped in their car. Ken has an Admiral, right?"  
  
Rico gave a short nod, indicating that he both agreed with and understood Sonny's theory, whilst also answering his question. He began to speak, but was suddenly cut off by the loud sound of an engine, coming from somewhere close by. Sonny pushed his Colt back into its holster and then followed Rico back to the Stinger. In the distance, on the road, a gold coloured Admiral could be seen speeding away. But it was too late to follow; they had already escaped.  
  
Rico let go of the top of the Stinger door, which he was about to tear open to get inside the car and take pursuit. However, sensing that Sonny hadn't done the same, he decided not to. Instead, he slowly placed his own gun back into his jacket, and then gave a long and heavy sigh.  
  
"Looks like they're all away then." Rico unhappily moaned, wondering if he would be able to track Tommy down.  
  
"Don't worry." Sonny reassured quickly, a sound of confidence in his voice. "This is Vice City - Tommy won't be able to stay hidden for long. And he doesn't know we're after him. So, just don't worry, because he'll be back."  
  
Sonny then slowly opened the door of his car, and sat down into his seat, embracing the warmth of his vehicle. He turned the key and started up the engine once again, as Rico got into the other seat. The car reversed slowly, and then spun round, as if it was sliding on ice, as Sonny twisted the steering wheel powerfully.  
  
He went forwards, staying at a normal speed, now that he was not in a rush.  
  
"So," he began. "You got a job to get back to down in Liberty? I guess you will have to leave the Tommy thing to us."  
  
"Nah," Rico answered, looking over at the sun, which was fading down into the sea as he spoke. "They expected me to nail Vercetti down here. If I do go back, they'll expect something."  
  
"Sounds a little, strange. But hey, it's a whole new city down there!" laughed Sonny in reply.  
  
"Yeah, I guess it is a little stupid." Rico sighed. "Oh well, I guess I will have to go back there anyway."  
  
"Hey, wait. Hold on a second Rico." Sonny started, as Rico eagerly awaited the response. "You ever fancy a job in law enforcement down here in the south?"  
  
"Maybe..." Rico laughed as the Stinger exited Viceport onto the main road once again. "Just maybe!" 


	2. Episode 2

**Episode #2**  
  
"The name's Vercetti." Came the voice of a man, stepping out of the shadows in the corner of the Malibu Club. "Tommy Vercetti."  
  
"Ah, Mr. Vercetti!" Frank Gomez, the owner of the club, replied. "I have been waiting for you to show up for so long! I hear that the deal I set up for you and your boss, Forelli, a few weeks ago didn't work out very well?"  
  
"You could say that,"  
  
"I'm surprised you are alive. My men were killed, and so were yours, as I hear."  
  
"Yeah, somebody fucked up alright. Now I'm on my own in this city, with nothing."  
  
"Well then, what can we do about this do yo-"  
  
"Shut up, and listen to me. I want you to tell me what the hell is going on, and why I don't have my stuff right now."  
  
"You have me at a loss, Mr. Vercetti. I was screwed over in that deal too, and yet you come to me ordering for things as if it was my fault."  
  
Tommy stepped forwards and grabbed Gomez by the shirt, crinkling up the smooth appearance of the white cotton. Gomez looked into Tommy's eyes with a look of genuine fear, not knowing what was going to happen next. Tommy quickly shoved Gomez back slightly, releasing his grip.  
  
"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth. "But I'll be back here, just know that. OK? I'll be back through here."  
  
Tommy quickly stormed out of the front of the club in an anger. Casper put his hands to his chest and straightened out his shirt, then he flexed his neck from side to side.  
  
"Frankie," he yelled up the stairs in the back of the club, directing his voice towards his bodyguard. "Do me a favour eh, go take care of that piece o' shit!"  
  
Frankie Bertonelli, Casper's tall bodyguard laden with huge muscles, stepped down the stairs and took a look across the dance floor of the club. He saw Tommy Vercetti run down the front steps of the Malibu just outside, and then nodded at his boss.  
  
"No problem." He smirked, pulling a desert eagle from inside his jacket pocket.  
  
Bertonelli then quickly made his way across the dance floor, pointing at two more security guards at the door of the club. They displayed their fists, equipped with brass knuckles, and then stepped out the door and down the steps, following Tommy. They watched Tommy turn left into the car park round the back of the club, and then they ran along the gritty concrete sidewalk, crouching down to hide themselves behind the wall. As Tommy made his way towards a silver admiral parked in the corner, one of them quickly sprinted out towards him.  
  
Within seconds he had caught up with Tommy, and he was right behind him. Suddenly, Tommy spun round and grabbed the man's arm, twisting it up behind his back. The other guard then ran towards him, and Tommy released his grip. As the other approached he quickly rolled to the side and then kicked the man in the back of his legs, sending him down to the floor. He then jumped on top of him and began punching his face, turning it into a bloody mess.  
  
CRACK!  
  
The other man had risen, and punched Tommy in the back with his brass knuckles. Tommy fell to the floor in pain, rolling onto his side next to the guard on the floor. He then tried to reach his back with his arms, and shake away the pain in any way possible. As he rolled onto his back, he watched the guard lift his fist, ready for the knock-out shot. He closed his eyes as the fist approached.  
  
"Stop!" came a loud shout from over the other side of the car park. It was the voice of Frankie Bertonelli, who now held his handgun at his side, calmly.  
  
The guard paused and held his fist in the air, just inches away from Tommy's face. Tommy began breathing heavier, and gave a sigh of relief as the guard retracted his fist. His stomach dropped as he then turned to his left, and watched as Bertonelli began advancing on them.  
  
The guard stepped up and backed away slightly, pulling the other guard to his feet at the same time. The two guards cleared the area and watched from a few metres away as Frankie approached Vercetti, a menacing smile coming across his face as he drew nearer.  
  
"You know, Vercetti, things didn't have to be like this." He began, raising the desert eagle slightly. "If you had just been a nice guy to Mr. Gomez, then things wouldn't have turned out this way. He wanted to like you, but you couldn't accept that. And now you must pay the price for that."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened as he watched the man's finger begin to squeeze the trigger of the handgun, which was now aimed straight at him.  
  
"Bye, bye, Mr. Vercetti."  
  
Tommy quickly rolled out, despite the pain, and flung himself into Bertonelli's legs. Bertonelli stumbled forwards slightly as he pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew from the gun, piercing the trunk of a parked Infernus. Tommy then took advantage of the situation and tripped him up, snatching his gun away at the same time. The two bodyguards ran over, and Tommy quickly pulled the trigger twice. They both fell backwards, hitting the floor with a quiet thump.  
  
Tommy then twirled the gun round to aim at Bertonelli, who was now off the ground. Before Tommy could shoot, Frankie chopped his hand, sending the gun flying several feet across the floor. Tommy quickly went to punch him, but Frankie grabbed his hand and stopped it from moving anywhere. The two locked up and Vercetti quickly headbutted Bertonelli in the nose, cutting it open at the top.  
  
Bertonelli shuffled back several paces as blood began to trickle down from the top of his nose, but he didn't seem to notice the pain too much. However, Tommy had already managed to get into his admiral, and he started the engine as fast as he could. Bertonelli dodged out of the way, diving for his gun as Tommy reversed the vehicle out of the car park. He emptied the clip at the car as it sped away from the car park, away from the club. Tommy had made yet dodged yet another bullet, and had escaped from a deadly situation for the second time.

* * *

A jet black stinger swerved round the corner of the Starfish Island bridge, smoke emitting from the rubber tyres as it skidded across the tarmac. It flew over the bridge, hitting the road with a slight thud as it landed down on the other side. Rico Martinez sat in the passengers seat, calmly loading several bullets into the chamber of his colt python, as he looked up at the dark night sky.  
  
"How much time we got?" Rico questioned, looking right towards his partner, Sonny Johnson.  
  
"Not long," Sonny replied, steering the car onto the mainland. "The deal isn't gonna be goin' on forever."  
  
Rico nodded and continued checking his weapon.  
  
"So, who gave us the tip on this one?" he asked, again turning towards the drivers seat.  
  
"Some rat motherfucker, goes by the name of Neil Roberts. Called in an hour ago."  
  
"We gonna check that out later, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah, we need to find out where he fits in."  
  
Sonny pulled up outside the hooker inn, and then turned off the engine. He grabbed his colt 45 from inside his jacket and then checked the clip. Once satisfied, he slotted it back into the handle of the gun and then stepped out of the car.  
  
Without saying a word, he shut his door quietly and signalled for Rico to enter the building on the right. Rico nodded and then ran towards the door, entering quietly. Sonny entered the door on the left, which led to another corridor opposite the one Rico was entering. He watched Rico creep along the building through the courtyard, and then continued down the corridor himself.  
  
Over the other side, Rico quickly snapped round, swiftly plucking his colt python from its holster as he spun. A faint ray of moonlight shone through windows on the side of the corridor he was advancing down, just enough to light up the shadows in the building. When he realised that there was no noise behind him and it was just the wind, he turned back round and crept forwards, hearing faint mumbles of voices groaning before him. Just one door lay between him and the voices, just one, small door.  
  
He gripped his gun tightly, thin beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as he reached out for the handle of the door with his left hand. He grabbed hold of the handle and brought his face up to a small, dark window in the door – close enough to see through it and look at what was going on. Inside the room was a small group of people, around six or seven to be exact. Two of them were leaned over a small table, while the rest crowded round to look at whatever was on the table as well.  
  
"Heh," Rico silently sighed to himself. "So that rat was telling the truth. A coke deal."  
  
He gripped his revolver even tighter, and checked that the six bullets were loaded into the chamber quickly. He then walked over to one of the windows at the side of the corridor, and gave a short signal. Just outside the corridor was the courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the building. In the opposite corridor to Rico, Sonny was walking round the courtyard, and approaching the room from the other side.  
  
Sonny caught Rico's signal and then began advancing through the corridor round to the back of the room. Suddenly, just outside, two police cruisers pulled up at the building, their sirens blazing in the night. The men inside the room heard the noises, and Rico watched as they scrambled away from the table and pulled out their own guns. On the table was proof of Rico's assumption – plenty of white, grainy cocaine smothered across the wooden surface.  
  
"Oh shit," Rico sighed, crouching down further to avoid being spotted by any of the men. "Here we go."  
  
Breathing heavier, Rico turned round and watched as three members of the VCPD SWAT Team crept down the corridor, MP5 sub-machineguns in hand. Rico took one last, deep breath as the backup approached. He then jumped up, and kicked the door in with his foot.  
  
"Vice Law!" he shouted, aiming the gun into the room. "Put your weapons down!"  
  
The men inside quickly let off a barrage of bullets, aimed in Rico's direction. He ducked behind the door again and used it as a shield, bullets puncturing the think wooden surface. But he wouldn't last out there forever.  
  
The SWAT Team swiftly lifted up their guns and fired inside at anything that moved. Several of the men inside flew backwards over the tables, sliding through the cocaine piles and turning them into red messes. Others hit the floor with a thud, blood gushing from their bodies as they lay down to take their last breath.  
  
The SWAT members stopped to reload, and Rico peeked in through the corner. There were three men left, but two of them were crouched down on the floor, holding their hands above their heads in surrender. The other one held an M4 in his grip tightly, and continuously burst fired three rounds through the open door.  
  
"Shit!" one of the SWAT members shouted as a bullet tore through his arm, as he held out his weapon. "I'm hit!"  
  
"Damn it ... we can't hold out here much longer." Another chimed in.  
  
Suddenly, the back exit to the room burst open and Sonny rushed in, holding his shiny Colt 45 strongly. As the man with the M4 began to turn around to face him, Sonny quickly shot into the man's back. The man gave a scream of pain as he dropped his gun to the floor and fell to his knees in agony.  
  
Rico stepped into the room, followed by the SWAT members, who began scouring the rest of the building for anyone else. Rico and Sonny then slapped a pair of handcuffs onto the two men who had surrendered earlier on, and they got rid of all their weapons. Several ambulances pulled up outside, and the paramedics began rushing into the building to attend to the criminals.

* * *

Lt. Ed Jameson sat behind his large oak desk, puffing on a Cuban cigar as usual, looking over several different files on the wood. His chair slammed to the floor as Sonny and Rico barged into the room and stood in front of the desk.  
  
"Hey, you two." Ed shouted as they walked in. "I got some news on Vercetti."  
  
"What? Tell us." Rico replied. "We've been chasing him for weeks, what've you got?"  
  
"He was spotted in a brawl last night, outside the Malibu Club." Ed explained. "I'm not sure of the details yet, that's all I know."  
  
"And that rat from the deal last night, where do we get him?" Sonny asked.  
  
"He is the assistant to the manager at the Pole Position Club, apparently." Ed answered. "Not many people know about this, we only just managed to find out."  
  
"What's that got to do with a coke deal?" Rico questioned. "Why would he want to shout that off? Something seems strange here..."  
  
"You're right - we need to know how he knows, and why he went to the trouble of reporting it to us. Go down there and see what you can find out. But don't do anything at the club, we don't want security there getting up in our face."  
  
"OK, I'll take care of that. But first, where are the guys we arrested? Perhaps we can find something else that is crucial out of them." Sonny enquired.  
  
"OK, here's what we'll do. Rico, you go down and interrogate some of the boys you caught, Sonny, go check out Roberts."  
  
The two nodded and then exited the room, splitting up and going different ways as soon as they were out. Rico turned right and then headed down a small set of stairs, into a thin corridor lined with beige paint on the walls. The corridor smelled of paint, it must have been freshly done. Dust flew through the air into his face as Rico made his way along the corridor, to two silver doors at the end. On the left he could enter the interrogation room, whilst on the right he could enter the viewing room.  
  
Rico swung open the door on the left and then entered. Inside Vincent Cordero, a hard nosed member of Vice Law, leaned on the table, staring at one of the men being interrogated. Vincent wore a black leather jacket, and had thick black hair. He had emigrated from Italy into America as a young boy, and had lived in Vice City ever since.  
  
He mainly grew up on the street because his parents had died while he was a teenager, but he managed to make his way through it. He joined the Vice Law team of the VCPD when he was 27, and he had been there for 4 years now. He may have had disregard for the rules, but when it came to getting something done, nobody got the job done faster or better.  
  
Vincent picked his arms up off the table and stepped out of the room the instant Rico walked through the door. He then pulled Rico back out to tell him about the situation, and closed the door over so that the man inside wouldn't be able to hear them.  
  
"Right, here's how it is," Vincent began, leaning against the wall with his elbow. "Seven guys in that room. Three dead, POW! One shot in the back, in hospital. Another critically injured, got shot several times. Then we have these two little fucks, but I don't know if I can get a straight answer out of them both."  
  
"You interrogated him in there?" Rico questioned.  
  
"Yeah, sure have. He claims he was just a tag along at the deal, didn't even realise that he was doing anything illegal until he got there. That's his exact story, he's been stickin' to it."  
  
"What about the other?" Rico asked.  
  
"I haven't checked him out yet."  
  
"I'll do it then, see what he knows."  
  
"OK, but I'll stick around in there. I need to be there to know if what he is saying compares to this other guy or not."  
  
Rico nodded, and then told Vincent to get rid of the other man inside the room. He then turned and walked into the viewing room to take a look at what they knew so far, and to listen to the recording.

* * *

Sonny pulled up in his stinger outside the Pole Position Club. The club looked strange in the gleaming sun of the day, because it's bright pink neon lights didn't flash, and nothing was magnificently illuminated. However, business continued as normal inside, even if it was less busy. It was still a place to just go and enjoy a drink, with the added luxury of exotic dancers at your pleasure.  
  
Sonny opened the door of his car and stepped out onto the sidewalk calmly, straightening out his silver suit as he stood up. He took off his sunglasses, slotted them onto the collar of his shirt and then approached the entrance of the club, walking down a small corridor into the bar of the building.  
  
Inside, the club was almost empty, and there were no dancers out on the catwalks. A small group of people sat in one of the corners of the Malibu, discussing the mornings' events and having a few drinks. Sonny walked in past the bald-headed security guard standing at the inner door, and then he walked up to the bar.  
  
"A vodka, please." Sonny ordered.  
  
Within seconds the barman got a shot of vodka ready and then slid it across the bar to Sonny. Sonny then paid him and took the drink to an empty table on the opposite side of the club, sitting down at the seat next to the wall. He took one sip of his drink, and then simply just held it up near his face, to make sure he didn't look suspicious.  
  
Several minutes later, Sonny watched as a man with curly blonde hair and a black t-shirt walked out of the back room of the club. He then tried to get a better view of the back corridor, without shifting himself too much. There appeared to be nobody there. Placing his drink down onto the table, he stood up and then walked back out of the club, making sure that he didn't look like he was following the man.  
  
Sonny watched from a fair distance behind as the man walked towards a silver cheetah, and then unlocked the doors. He then quickly ran over the road and grabbed the man's arm as gently as he could manage, before he opened the door.  
  
"Are you Roberts?" Sonny questioned, eagerly. "Neil Roberts?"  
  
The man looked round himself in fear, sweat beginning to gather on his forehead.  
  
"Y... y ... ye... yeah, that's me." He replied, his voice becoming high and timid. He began breathing heavy, trying to scramble towards the handle of the door. "What do you want with me?"  
  
"Don't play dumb," Sonny retorted, angrily. "You called in for the tip off on a coke deal last night, how did you know?"  
  
The man didn't say anything, even though he kept his mouth open slightly.  
  
"How did you know, you rat motherfucker?!"  
  
"OK, OK, fine. I was in the Malibu club, spying on them. They have been competing with us at the Pole Position for months, trying to stop us from making good business." Roberts began to explain, opening up more. "So here they are in the Malibu club, talking at one of their tables. They don't know who I am, I'm an unknown face. That's why I went there, not somebody else. I simply overhead it, that's all!"  
  
"And who were these guys, that you overhead talking?"  
  
"There's a local gang round here, the Sharks, right? Well, they work with the Malibu club, protecting them and shit. I don't know, I figured it must be some of them."  
  
Sonny released his grip from the man, and then turned his head. The sun was still shining, even though the evening was drawing near, so he placed his sunglasses onto his head again.  
  
"Fine, OK." Sonny said, turning back round to the man. "Get out of here. But no more shit like this, understood? Keep yourself out of the way of this."  
  
Neil nodded frantically and then quickly swung open the door of his cheetah, starting up the engine and getting out of there as fast as he could. Sonny watched the car disappear into the distance, and then he sighed, walking back over to his stinger to go back to the station.

* * *

"What's your name, kid?" Rico asked the man sitting in the interrogation room. He didn't look much over twenty, and still had his whole life ahead of him.  
  
"Joel Jackson."  
  
"So, why were you there at the deal, Joel?" Rico questioned, leaning down on the table. "What's your involvement in this?"  
  
"I'm innocent! I wasn't supposed to be there!" Joel replied, an anxious look of terror spread across his face.  
  
"Liar!" Vincent shouted, stepping up out of his seat in the corners. "Your friend already used that excuse. Tell me the fucking truth!"  
  
The man sat there, without saying a word. He began to open his mouth, but no sound came out. He just sat there, still, silent.  
  
"Now, my friend ain't one to be kind, man. I suggest, seriously, tell us the truth." Rico said, calmly, acting the part of the good cop.  
  
Vincent slipped back into the shadows menacingly, his body becoming a dark figure as he stepped backwards smoothly. The man looked around himself one more time. The room was dark gray, with a small light dangling down from the roof, without a lampshade. The room was a small, cramped, square box. The only other feature was a large mirror on one wall, and he knew that people may be watching on the other side.  
  
"Fine." The man whimpered, placing his hands down onto the table gently. "I am in a gang, the Sharks. I didn't want to be there, honestly. I'm not a cold blooded criminal, I have a family!"  
  
"Just tell us the details," Rico asked.  
  
"Who were they, why were you there?"  
  
"The Sharks, we work on the streets, and for the Malibu Club. Listen, you can't let them know I told you this, they'll kill me!"  
  
"Oh, we won't let them know, Joel." Vincent replied, a tone of laughter in his voice. "We won't let them know at all, under one condition."  
  
"You work for us." Rico butted in. "You act like you got away from the deal, escaped out the back. Tell them we got the rest. Then just stay there, and tell us whatever happens."  
  
"But, what do you want me to find out?" Joel asked in a quiet voice.  
  
"Nothing about the Sharks," Rico explained. "Find out what both the Sharks, and the Malibu Clubs involvement is with Tommy Vercetti. And then tell us, immediately."  
  
"Got it?"  
  
Jackson whimpered one last time, then calmed himself again.  
  
"OK, I'll do it." He replied after several long seconds of silence. "But once I'm done, I'm free, right?"  
  
"Yes, as long as you help us, we'll forget this ever happened." Rico answered. "Nobody will know but us, and you."  
  
The man nodded as Vincent opened the door and then exited the room, heading into the other side of the mirror to switch off the tape recorder. Rico then stood up and escorted Joel out of the room, and down the corridor. He gave him a card with which to contact them on, and then let him out of the front door, whispering one last thing to him before he let him go.  
  
Vincent approached Rico from behind as they both watched Joel run away from the small building in downtown Vice City.  
  
"Is what he told us right? Do you believe him, and do you trust him?" Vincent asked, leaning on the frame of the door.  
  
"Yeah, I trust him." Rico replied moments later. "I checked it out earlier, that is his name, it's all the truth. And I told him that we know everything about him, so hopefully he won't be stupid and he will go along with this."  
  
Vincent nodded and then turned around as Sonny approached in his Stinger outside.  
  
"I'm going for a cup of coffee, see you later." Vincent shouted back, already halfway down the hall.  
  
Rico gave a slight nod of his head and then walked down the small set of steps outside the building, meeting up with Sonny as he got out of his car.  
  
"So, what's the news?" Rico asked, blankly.  
  
"Roberts, caught up with him. He told me that he found out by spying at the Malibu Club. A local gang round there, the Sharks. Works for the Malibu, helps them do some stuff, I don't know what it's worth."  
  
"My guy works for the Sharks, and the Malibu, Sonny." Rico replied sharply. "And let's not forget, Vercetti was attacked there."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Sonny replied, a smile coming across his face. "Things seem to be fitting together now, this is getting real interesting."  
  
"Real interesting, indeed." 


End file.
